


The House I Grew Up In

by wardo_wedidit



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Get Together, M/M, The Santa Network Holiday Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wardo_wedidit/pseuds/wardo_wedidit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ancient Brazilian myth causes Eduardo to de-age during finals, leaving Mark, Chris, and Dustin to take care of him until he turns back.  Cuteness and angst ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House I Grew Up In

**Author's Note:**

> Written for snow_stark at thesantanetwork's holiday fic exchange!

By now, Mark is more than used to sleeping with Wardo. 

Not like _that_ , Jesus. As much as he might want to. (Who is he kidding, as much as he _definitely_ wants to). No. He’s more than used to _falling asleep_ _next to_ Wardo. 

He figures that it’s just a normal part of every boy’s college experience, though he has no idea if that’s actually true or not. This is the only college experience _he’s_ ever had. He supposes he could ask Chris or Dustin, but he knows that would just leave Dustin whining to Chris about how “Mark and Eduardo cuddle, you’ve been holding out on me, Chris!” and then jokingly chasing him around the room until he captured Chris in a hug. And Chris may annoy Mark every once in a while, but he wouldn’t wish Dustin’s antics on anyone. No way. 

Anyway, last night Mark had been coding at his desk when Eduardo had walked in, immediately plopping down on Mark’s bed and sprawling out there, spreading out his books and kicking off his shoes. He had informed Mark that he had a huge Econ final in the morning and had “approximately a shitton of work to do”, but then somehow proceeded to talk to Mark every opportunity he got. Which wasn’t exactly new, but still. Mark wondered how Eduardo ever gets any studying done. Or why, no matter how much work he has, he always went to their room to study, when there are places like _the library_ where he could avoid conversation completely. 

Mark doesn’t know when, probably somehow into the fourth of fifth hour of coding, Eduardo had started complaining that he felt weird. Apparently he was nauseous and a little dizzy. Mark had responded with his typical “hm”s and “yeah”s, but Wardo just kept _talking_ about it, until eventually Mark had spun around in his chair. 

“Wardo, I’m not gonna feel your forehead,” he’d said, to which Eduardo had rolled his eyes with a smile. “Seriously, what do you want me to do about it? Go to student health or something.”

Eduardo had looked at him like he was being deliberately slow. “Mark, it’s 2 AM.”

Mark was looking back at the computer screen by now, shrugging. “So?”

To which Eduardo had started laughing so hard he had to clutch at his stomach, forcing Mark to give into temptation. Mark turned around to look, shooting him his most impressive arched eyebrow (even though he knew that his emerging grin was probably undercutting its effectiveness. Whatever, he’s pretty sure no one else could do much better when faced with Wardo laughing like that). Once Eduardo could breathe again, he’d said, “You’re telling me that you think student health is open 24 hours a day?”

Mark narrowed his eyes. “Shut up. Go take some Nyquil or something then. I think Chris has some in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

So Eduardo had. He’d then come back and tried to continue studying, eyes drooping, but Mark was in an important break in the code and didn’t notice. He hadn’t even turned around until half an hour later—and at this point Wardo was sitting propped up against the wall, eyes fighting to stay open, wrapped in three blankets he’d taken off Mark’s bed but still shivering. 

And okay, maybe Mark isn’t the most _observant_ friend, but he is a good one. At least, he’s trying to be.

So he hit ctrl+s and went to the bed, pulling Eduardo’s econ book out of his hands despite his protests. “Mark, I—”

“Shut up Wardo, go to sleep,” he said, pulling down the covers and making Wardo slide beneath them. 

At that point Wardo was buried beneath the quilt Mark’s grandmother made him _and_ the three blankets from before, and he was still inexplicably shivering. “Are you okay?” Mark asked, starting to worry a little. 

Eduardo actually couldn’t speak his teeth were chattering so hard, but he still managed to work out a nod, which did nothing to convince Mark. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, sliding in on the other side and pressing himself along Wardo’s back to warm him up. Eduardo had managed an appreciative chuckle, and they had fallen asleep with the lights on. 

But now it’s morning, and Eduardo’s not there, and Mark’s just curled around a bundle of blankets. Except, upon further inspection, the blankets are quivering. He feels his brow furrow as he pulls them back and—

Oh God. 

Oh _God_. 

This cannot be happening. 

There is no possible way that a tinier, younger version of Eduardo flops onto his back, swimming in the button-down and slacks, and blinks up at him, lip quivering and eyes filled with tears. There’s just _no way_. 

God, he can’t be more than three. 

“Um,” Mark says very eloquently, trying to get a handle on himself and rubbing his eyes with one hand, just in case this is some kind of dream or hallucination or something. That might work. (It doesn’t.)

Three-year-old Eduardo sniffles. “Where’s Mãe?” he asks, voice wobbling all over the face and eyes bright, tears threatening to spill over. 

“I—I—” Mark sputters, because what is he supposed to say? _Sorry Eduardo, she’s hundreds and hundreds of miles away, and oh yeah, if we told her you’d morphed into a three-year-old version of yourself she would never believe us and probably hang up on you._  
  
Eduardo starts to cry softly, whimpering a little into the blankets surrounding him. “I want Mãe,” he whispers, tears rolling thick down his face. “Who are you?”

“I’m Mark,” he says without thinking, because that’s one question he knows the answer to. “I’m Mark; I’m your best friend, Wardo. Do you remember me?” he explains, rubbing Eduardo’s back a little bit to calm him down and trying to stay calm _himself_ , struggling not to get scared or angry that this is happening and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Eduardo shrugs, not making eye contact with Mark. He pushes his face further into the blankets and cries harder, body shaking and breaths coming in gasps, and Mark has no idea what to do. 

He tries to remember back to when his sisters were young like this, but right now that seems like a very long time ago. But, it’s all he has to go on, so he worms an arm under Eduardo and picks him up, arranging him on his lap and rocking him back and forth a little, letting Eduardo sob into the fabric of his t-shirt, clutching at it with impossibly small fingers. He smooths a hand through Eduardo’s hair again and again, murmuring, “Shh, shh,” and hoping that helps. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Wardo,” he says. “You’re gonna stay with me for a little while, but it’s gonna be okay.” Eduardo nods into his shirt and Mark feels a huge weight of responsibility on his shoulders, along with a heaping wave of inadequacy. 

“I— _Chris!_ ”

//

“Shit. Shit shit _shit_ ,” Chris keeps saying, looking at Eduardo perched on Mark’s knee. Mark has now changed him into a only slightly-large t-shirt and basketball shorts that, on Eduardo, look more like pants. 

Mark shoots him a glare. “ _Stop it_ ,” he hisses, covering Eduardo’s ears. Eduardo’s practically attached to him at this point—Mark had tried to give him to Chris but Eduardo had cried even harder, and now he’s holding on to Mark with a death grip. 

“Sorry,” Chris whispers immediately, eyes still wide and fixed on Eduardo. At least he’s _responding_ … Dustin’s just sitting stock still on the other end of the couch, staring at them both with his jaw impossibly wide. Eduardo’s looking at Dustin like he’s something to be afraid of, though every once in a while shooting Chris curious looks like he’s shy. 

“What are you gonna _do_?” Chris asks, voice still quiet and sounding absolutely awed and terrified. “What the hell happened, Mark?”

“I told you what happened,” Mark snaps, because he told the whole story, he’s not doing it again. He regrets it though, when he feels Eduardo stiffen reflexively in his lap, letting out a shaky breath. Mark inhales slowly and counts to ten in his head. “We have to just wait. What else can we do? God, maybe it’ll just… go away on its own,” he says, looking down at the messy mop of hair that belongs to Eduardo. It’s much lighter in color at this age than Eduardo— _Mark’s_ Eduardo—has, like the Brazilian sun turned it more golden. He’s tanner too. Mark doesn’t know exactly why he’s noticing this… It’s just weird to think about. 

“Let’s hope so,” Dustin said, voice coming out almost hollow. 

Chris makes a frustrated grunt. “You guys, we have to be more proactive than that. We should… I don’t know, we should do research or something!” he suggests, throwing his hands up in the air. “We need to find out why this happened and what we can do to make it stop.”

“Good luck with that; I have a CS exam in two hours,” Mark says lowly. Fuck, what’s he going to do with Eduardo _then_?

Chris nods, gets his game face on (which Mark usually tries to avoid—it tends to mean Chris is about to put him to work) and says, “Right. Okay, I’ll watch Eduardo while you’re at your CS exam, and Dustin can go and do research. Sound good?”

Mark nods, which Chris acknowledges before turning to Dustin, who is still speechless and gaping. “ _Dustin!_ ” Chris says, waving his hand in front of Dustin’s face, who shakes his head quickly and seems to snap out of it. 

“Yeah, yeah… Research, library, got it,” he says, sitting back and letting out a breath. “Jesus, it’s just so _weird_ , this whole thing.”

Mark clears his throat, because Eduardo is burrowing his face into Mark’s chest again, which can’t be a good sign. He shoots Dustin glaring eyes for good measure, even though it’s probably not really his fault. Eduardo’s small fingers reach for Mark’s hand and curl around them. Chris and Dustin both look at Mark worriedly, and all Mark can do is sigh and say “Yeah.”

//

Eduardo puts up a bit of a fuss when Mark leaves for his final, but Mark doesn’t think it will be too bad. Eduardo’s just attached to him because he’s spent the most _time_ with Mark, he reasons during his CS exam. He’ll warm up to Chris in no time and be fine.

When Mark reenters the dorm after the exam however, Chris looks about at wit’s end. His hair is a mess and his clothes are rumpled, sleeves rolled up, his face flushed and his lips pressed together in a tight line, and Mark feels a little bit like he’s just stepped into a war zone. 

Eduardo is seated on the couch, curled up against the arm with his nose pressed into it, refusing to look up at Chris hovering above him. He’s not actively crying anymore, but his face is still red from it, his cheeks stained with tears and his hair a sweaty mess plastered to his forehead. He’s letting out these shaky, uneven, gasping breaths for air like he might start crying at any moment, and something in Mark’s chest just _tugs_ to see it. 

The door clicks shut behind him, and Chris turns to look at him. “Thank God,” he exhales, and Eduardo’s head pops up at the sound. He scrambles off the couch as soon as he sees Mark, running forward at full speed with arms out. Mark leans down to catch him at just the right moment, and Eduardo throws his arms around Mark’s neck and breathes out, body going loose and breaths evening out a little. 

Mark rubs his back a little disjointedly, hoping to calm him down a little. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he murmurs, and Eduardo nods into his neck and lets out a hiccupping noise. Mark scoops him up, balancing him on his hip and letting Eduardo relax against him. 

Chris is gaping at him like he just grew horns. “What?” Mark asks, trying hard not to snap because he knows Eduardo is already tense. “I have younger sisters you know; I’m not completely incompetent with children.”

Chris shakes his head a little, still frozen in place. “It’s not just that. He’s just…” he looks at the two of them together for a moment, tipping his head to the side contemplatively. “He’s so _comfortable_ with you. It doesn’t make any sense. The whole time you were gone he was either in tears or hiding from me.”

“Maybe he just likes me better than you,” Mark replies archly; he just can’t resist, dumping his backpack on the floor and settling down onto the couch with Eduardo curled up in his lap. 

“Whatever. Just shows his taste,” Chris replies, playing along. Mark grabs the nearest pillow from the couch at chucks it at him in retaliation, which Chris does not see coming and is hit squarely in the face, emitting a high-pitched yelp in retaliation, which sends Eduardo into a fit of giggles. 

Mark laughs along, because as much as he’ll deny it if asked, this three year old version of Eduardo is clearly the most adorable thing. Chris can’t seem to get over the fact that Eduardo is laughing, and narrows his eyes at the two of them. “Traitor,” he mutters under his breath. “Cries for about two straight hours but as soon as Mark walks in it’s all sunshine and rainbows…”

Dustin chooses that moment to throw the door open and burst through. Eduardo jumps in Mark’s lap and whimpers “ _Mark_ ,” sounding sad and frightened, before Dustin clambers through. 

“Look, it’s okay, it’s just Dustin,” Mark assures him, pointing and speaking soothingly. “He’s nothing to be afraid of, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He leans in closer, almost conspiratorial. “But that’s probably just because he couldn’t if he wanted to.”

Eduardo grins again, this time with no happy laugh to accompany it, though he does seem to be entertained by the mock-anger on Dustin’s face at the comment. “Marky, that’s not very polite!” Dustin scolds him in an overdramatic accent, making Eduardo giggle and squirm a little in Mark’s lap. Mark catches the way Dustin completely lights up when he notices that he made Eduardo laugh, puffing out his chest a little further. Mark sighs. 

“What do you have, Dustin?”

“If anything,” Chris mutters, making his way back to the common room and heaving down onto the couch. 

Dustin glares at him, entirely for effect and unmeant. “Well, no thanks to _you two_ , I just happened to find something,” he says, pulling a book out of his bag and thrusting it at them. 

Chris takes it since Mark’s hands are full and pages through it, looking back at Dustin long-sufferingly. “Dustin, how are we supposed to know what this means—it’s all written in _Portuguese_.”

“Oh,” Dustin seems to remember, snatching it back and pulling a notebook out of his bag. “Okay, so basically it’s a fairy tale Brazilian parents tell their children when they’re teaching them how to interact with people. It’s this story about a prince who is keeping secrets from his parents, so an ancient witch puts a curse on him that turns him into a young child, so that he appreciates how much easier it is to communicate when he’s older. And he can’t turn back until he tells his secret, as a child.” Dustin wiggles his eyebrows ridiculously. 

Chris sighs, pressing his wrists into his eyes and leaning back. “So Eduardo must have had a secret.”

Dustin scoffs. “Yeah, yeah yeah, but look: you’re missing the important part.” Mark and Eduardo both look at him blankly, and Dustin rolls his eyes long-sufferingly. “ _Prince!_ ” he declares, hands flailing wildly in Eduardo’s direction. 

Now it’s Mark’s turn to snort. “Are you serious? I think we would have known.”

“ _Weeeell_ ,” Dustin draws, clearly relishing the drama in all this, “The myth says that the witch passed it on as a curse to all future members of the prince’s family, so he may not be a prince, but he must be _descended from royal blood!_ ” Dustin finishes with a flourish. Chris and Mark blink at him. Dustin sighs at their lack of reaction dramatically and flops around on the couch, which makes Eduardo giggle a little. “You guys are so boring. Isn’t this _exciting_?” he asks.

Mark sighs. “It would be more exciting if he had magically changed back while I was gone,” he says, as Eduardo turns to look up at him, lip pouting a little. Mark tries to smile for his benefit, even though he’s sure it comes out more pained than anything else. Still, it has the desired effect, as Eduardo returns it shyly, reaching up to tug on one of Mark’s curls. 

It’s achingly reminiscent of the way Mark’s Eduardo (he hates thinking of them like that, but he _has_ to keep them separate in his head) will do the same thing when Mark makes him laugh, and Mark feels the smile slip off his face and his stomach plummet at the gesture. It hurts more to remember his Eduardo when he can’t be there, when he’s trapped or whatever in the body of a three-year-old and Mark can see his face but it’s not _his_ face. 

Eduardo’s brow furrows at the change in expression, like he’s worried about Mark, which should be cute or something but just _isn’t_ , it makes Mark’s chest ache. 

“I should go get us all some food,” Mark finally mutters, if only to stop thinking, as he lifts Eduardo off his lap and places him back on the couch. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, running a hand through Eduardo’s hair quickly to stop his lip from quivering. Chris and Dustin start to protest, but Mark is already out the door. 

He takes the stairs two at a time, and then when he’s outside, Mark stops and takes a moment to just _breathe_ , hoping the fresh air will punch the air back into his lungs. This is going to be much harder than he thought. 

//

Mark soon finds that he’s not the only one feeling the tension. The next morning, he walks into the dorm after going to get breakfast to find Chris and Dustin screaming at each other over something really trivial—about who cleaned the bathroom last or some other topic equally dumb. Normally, Mark would just roll his eyes and continue straight into his room, which he starts to do, before he sees Eduardo curled up on his bed. He must have woken up when Mark was out, and he’s currently hugging his knees with his head pressed against them, body shaking as he cries. 

Just like that, he feels red-hot anger pulse through him, and he stalks right up to Chris and Dustin and stands right between them, pushing them apart. “Shut _up_ ,” he hisses, glaring at them both before walking back to his room and kneeling in front of Eduardo, reaching out to unclasp his hands and pull his knees down so that he can see his face. 

“Wardo,” he says, voice soft as he can make it. “It’s okay, Chris and Dustin aren’t gonna fight anymore.”

Eduardo wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Promise?” he asks, words coming out shuddery. 

“Promise,” Mark replies, getting up and moving to sit beside Eduardo. Eduardo scrambles into his lap immediately, wrapping his arms around Mark’s neck in a tight hug and trying to catch his breath. Mark presses a quick kiss into his hair and rubs his back in slow circles, shooting Chris and Dustin the death glare when they try to peek in with apologetic faces. “Are you sure you’re okay? Why were you upset, Wardo?” he asks. 

Eduardo nuzzles into Mark’s neck. “It was loud, like when Pai—” he starts, before cutting himself off unexpectedly and going still, face heating up, like he said something he shouldn’t. Mark grinds his teeth with anger… Eduardo may not have spelled it out but Mark can certainly fill in the pieces. He’s jerked back to the present conversation when Eduardo starts again. 

“And I woke up and you weren’t here,” he finishes all in one breath, and _oh_ , as if the first part didn’t hurt enough, this is the death blow. Mark feels _awful_. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately, blinking fast so his eyes won’t sting. “It won’t happen again,” he murmurs. 

“’Kay,” Eduardo answers, breaths evening out. 

Mark looks up to find Chris and Dustin still looking in, both their faces drawn and a little sad. Mark has to drop his eyes—he feels sad enough on his own, he doesn’t need to see it reflected in their eyes. 

//

The days go on, and every morning Mark wakes up Eduardo is still three. 

At least it does get a little better—Eduardo seems to get more comfortable. The crying jags become less frequent and Eduardo’s natural personality seems to bubble up to the surface. This version of Eduardo is much easier for Mark to recognize, full of inexhaustible energy and an easy smile that crops up all the time, constant chatter and laughter. 

Anyway, he’s like that with Mark now. It takes him a little longer to warm up to Chris and Dustin. If he’s ever in the room with them and Mark’s not there, he’ll call for Mark in a slightly nervous voice, like he’s just checking to make sure. Mark will callback to reassure him and then Eduardo will be fine, but generally speaking he does much better when Mark’s in the room with him. 

He loves playing Mario Cart with the three of them, he eats so much mac and cheese Mark worries he’ll get sick, plays hide and seek with Chris, and falls asleep to a story Mark tells him every night. 

Mark’s favorite moment is one that he’s not even apart of. It’s one afternoon when Mark is frantically studying for a final, and so Eduardo is just sitting against the wall, playing with a little bouncy ball and looking bored. Finally, Dustin comes in, crouching beside Eduardo and asking, “Wanna play a game?”

Eduardo shoots him a curious look, dropping the ball, which bounces across the room. “I guess,” he says, shooting Mark a questioning look. Mark nods slightly, trying not to smile, and only at that Eduardo turns back to Dustin and says, “Okay.”

Dustin grins. “Excellent choice, little man. ‘Cause look what I found.” And with that, he drops five or six little dinosaur toys on the floor, and Eduardo’s face lights up. 

“Oh my god,” Mark says, looking up from his textbook. “Where did you find those?”

“I had them in my room,” Dustin answers automatically, almost too quickly. Mark doesn’t know what the situation is—if Dustin had his parents send them, if he picked them up from the store, or if he really did have them in his room or _what_ , but whatever it is, it’s almost too adorable for Mark to handle. He’s grinning shamelessly now; he doesn’t even care if Eduardo or Dustin or Chris see. 

Eduardo’s jaw drops to see them, grabbing the T-Rex. “These are so _cool_!” he says, posing his in front of the one Dustin is holding and letting out a growl, which trails off into breathless laughter before too long. Dustin is laughing too, as is Mark, and Dustin shoots him a look like, _are you seeing this_? All Mark can do is nod, because this is clearly the cutest thing that any of them have ever seen. 

So the two of them run around the common room, chasing each other with their dinosaur toys, ducking in and out of bedrooms. Mark watches with a helpless grin, happy to see Eduardo enjoying himself and completely carefree. He takes a look down at his textbook, and then looks back up at Eduardo giggling, and says, “Fuck it.”

He gets up and goes over to pick up a velicoraptor, joining in. Eduardo “Yay!”s and Dustin goes, “Alright!”, and Mark knows it was the right choice. 

//

So they’re figuring it out, even if it took them a while. But no matter what, there’s still rough parts.

For example, a couple days later. 

Mark was only in the bathroom for two minutes tops, he _swears_. How is it possible for Eduardo to wreak havoc in such a short amount of time? 

But apparently it’s possible. When Mark comes out, Eduardo is plopped on the floor, a pile of papers all around him. Mark immediately recognizes them as Chris’ notes for studying for finals, which he had organized by class and by unit then chronologically and _oh god_ , Chris is going to kill them. 

Eduardo’s lower lip is wobbling and his cheeks are turning pink, eyes bright with rapidly forming tears. 

Mark exhales noisy, hurrying over and picking up papers. “Eduardo what the—what happened?”

Eduardo pops up right away, scrambling away from the mess and wiping at his eyes preemptively. “I’m sorry, Mark, I’m sorry,” he says, breaths coming shakily, heading for the door. Tears are steadily falling down his face now, but he’s not letting himself acknowledge them, instead focusing on twisting the doorknob with shaking hands. “I’ll go get it, I’ll go get it!” he keeps saying, which—Mark has no idea what that means.

He’s not strong enough to actually get it open, so at least _something_ is working in Mark’s favor. He gets up and stands between Eduardo and the door, Eduardo looking up at him with his lower lip trembling. “Go get what?” Mark asks tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Eduardo is silent, casting his eyes downward. “Eduardo, go get _what_?”

Eduardo mumbles something unintelligible. Mark sighs, kneels down so he’s Eduardo’s height and tips his chin up so Eduardo will look at him. Eduardo’s eyes are still full of tears, wide and frightened. “The switch,” he murmurs, so low Mark has to strain to hear. 

Mark lets out a whoosh of breath. He lets the word sink in for a moment and feels so angry he can’t even handle it. “Wardo,” he says, and he can feel his own voice shaking. “I’m not gonna do that. No one should _ever_ do that to you, okay?” 

Wardo takes a little gasping breath and nods, still looking _so, so_ broken that Mark hates the world for a minute. He hates Eduardo’s father most of all, the person who made his son this twitchy, nervous, uncertain mess when that is the last thing Eduardo deserves. “Come here,” he says, his voice a little gruff, as he pulls Eduardo into a tight hug. Eduardo breathes shaky breaths into his shirt and they stay like that for a while, Mark rubbing a gentle hand of Eduardo’s quivering back. He wishes with _everything_ that Mark could have protected Eduardo back then. 

//

“Come on, we’re going outside,” Mark says later, pulling yet another shirt over Eduardo’s head (they don’t have a winter coat in his size, obviously, so they’re just going for lots and lots of layers of t-shirts followed by one of Mark’s old sweatshirts). One of Chris’ knitted scarves and Dustin’s mittens are in a pile on the floor, waiting to be put on Eduardo, along with a floppy, long-eared hat that Mark’s grandmother made him. The boots he’s wearing are Mark’s, which are far too big for him and look a bit like he’s playing dress up. (Mark’s toes will be cold but that’s okay; it’s not like he hasn’t braved flip-flops in snow before. At least he has socks on this time.). 

It’s day five and Eduardo has started to get a little bit whiny from being cooped up inside for too long. Now he’s practically bouncing with excitement. 

“What are we going to play?” he asks, fighting to get his arms through the sleeves, bright-eyed with excitement. “Duck-duck goose? Hide and seek?” Then his face lights up as if he’s just had the most brilliant idea. “Can we play _pretend_?”

“We’ll play whatever you want,” Mark promises, only half listening as he stuffs Eduardo’s tiny fingers into Dustin’s bright orange mittens. 

“Yay!” Eduardo cheers, jumping up and down just once. “Are Chris and Dustin gonna come too?”

“Heck yes we will, buddy, up top!” Dustin exclaims, leaning down to Eduardo’s level for a high-five. Eduardo returns it primly, as if he wants to be proper about it, but he’s biting down on a wide grin that makes Mark smile reflexively. 

He looks up at Chris is looking at him a little strangely, so Mark immediately fixes a glare at him to hide it. 

Eduardo apparently can’t wait and takes the stairs two at a time, pulling Mark out the door. “Come on, come on, I want to _play_!” he exclaims, pushing at the door with his whole body and still not managing to open it. Mark opens it, throws it wide, and _oh._  
  
The ground is covered in snow, pristine and untouched around them like a winter wonderland. Eduardo is frozen by his side and suddenly it hits Mark—Eduardo’s probably never seen snow before at this age. 

He’s shaking a little beside him. Mark hopes it’s out of fear and not from the cold, and then immediately winces at the thought. He doesn’t want Eduardo to be afraid, but he’d rather he didn’t die of hypothermia. He’ll take the lesser of the two evils. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and Eduardo gives a small nod. Mark laughs. “Come on, it’s fine,” he says, taking a step out into the snow with a flourish as if to say, _see_? 

Eduardo doesn't say anything, just stands stock still and silent, eyes darting back and forth from Mark to the ground.

Mark sighs, steps forward so he's close, and holds a hand out to Eduardo. Eduardo takes it, clutching carefully at Mark's fingers, following when Mark steps out again, off of the sidewalk and into the snow. He giggles immediately. "It's crunchy!" he declares, watching each purposeful rise and fall of his feet in Mark's too-big boots. Mark can't help but laugh in response.

They go slow, and by the time Dustin and Chris emerge they're only about four feet out. Wardo is still gripping Mark's hand like a lifeline, but now he's bent over and poking at the snow carefully on the ground, brow furrowed with curiosity and confusion but smile alight.

"You can taste it," Mark says, grinning at Eduardo’s fascination and pointedly ignoring the way Chris and Dustin are looking at them quietly.

Wardo jerks his head up to look at him like he's not sure whether or not to believe him, but is absolutely certain Mark is crazy. "You can," Mark repeats, nodding for reassurance. "It's just water, Wardo—frozen water."

Eduardo looks down at the snow suspiciously but pinches some between his fingers, sticks his tongue out and tastes it. He shivers a little but laughs, high and delighted and light and like a real _kid_. Something in Mark's chest tightens painfully as he thinks that.

"Hey Mark!" Dustin calls from the doorstep. "Look out!" He hurls a snowball in Mark's direction which Mark blessedly ducks in time, and then has to restrain himself to not flip off Dustin, now doubled over from laughter.

"What are they doing?" Eduardo asks curiously, standing up and shuffling closer so that he's half behind Mark's knee, watching suspiciously as Chris and Dustin pack snow.

"Making snowballs to throw at us," he replies simply.

Wardo's eyebrows go up. "Why?"

Mark shrugs, smiling and bending down to make one of his own. "Because it's fun. Here, I'll show you."

Half an hour later the once pristine snow is littered with crisscrossing tracks from where they've all raced each other around and they're out of breath. Chris and Dustin had an early lead but Mark and Eduardo had built up a fort, fighting them off. Eduardo has also proven to be a sneaky little soldier, small enough to creep up behind people and nail them right on the back. Afterwards he shrieks delightedly, the sound trailing off into ecstatic laughter as he runs away when they whirl around to retaliate. 

But they seem to have officially worn him out now, which is good because Mark, Chris, and Dustin are breathing pretty heavily themselves. Eduardo flops backward into the snow, long eared hat askew as he sighs. "I'm tired," he announces, still reaching up to clutch at Mark's coat with small fingers.

"I know," Mark replies, lying back so that they're side by side. "There's one more thing we have to do, though."

He spreads his arms and legs, moving them back and forth as Eduardo shoots him a look. "What are you doing?"

"Making a snow angel," Mark says. "Try it."

Eduardo grins and does, moving his arms and legs as fast as possible before slowing completely, sighing and sticking out his tongue to catch falling snowflakes. Mark has to look away, because it’s too much—to see Eduardo this unburdened, this no-strings-attached _happy_. It makes his heart hurt almost, makes him wonder what happened to make Eduardo the way he is now… anxious and cautious and eager-to-please, always worried it’s not enough. Mark knows what it is, obviously, as he thinks of his Eduardo, talking stiltedly and tight-jawed about his father and this Eduardo, crying and insisting on getting a switch. He wonders if there was one event, one breaking point, or if it was just a slow, inevitable descent of giving up. 

He pushes himself up, and then leans down to pull Eduardo up too. Eduardo keeps a hold of one hand as they stand there, surveying their work. "What do you think?" Mark asks and Eduardo nods.

"Pretty," he decides, before the word trails off into a yawn. Mark laughs and picks him up.

"Okay, we're going in."

It's a sign of how tired he is that Eduardo doesn't even protest, just wraps his arms around Mark's neck and pillows his head on Mark's shoulder.

Mark pulls off all the extra layers when they get inside, smirking when Eduardo lets his limbs flop around bonelessly as he grabs a pillow and a blanket, setting up the couch for Eduardo to take a nap. “Can we do it again tomorrow?” he sighs, eyes sliding shut and then open again, like he’s not yet ready to give in. 

“We’ll see,” Mark answers. He reaches down to push Eduardo’s sweaty bangs back off his forehead, trying to resist the urge to worry at his own lip. Tomorrow Eduardo will have been three for a week, and Mark doesn’t want to think about that. 

“Hm,” Eduardo replies sleepily, eyes finally closing when Mark tucks the blanket around him. “ _Eu te amo_ ,” he murmurs, and Mark’s heart does something painful and complicated in his chest that he doesn’t want to think about. 

So he heads determinedly to his room, stopping only to hiss at Chris and Dustin to be quiet as they come in, closing his door quietly behind him. 

//

Mark has a final at 7:45 tomorrow morning, and he wants to quit worrying about this whole Eduardo situation, so he throws himself into studying for it. It’s a sign of how desperate he is that it’s his art history final: a class he could not care less about and usually does not even attend. He had been planning to skip the exam too, but when he’d mentioned that to Eduardo— _his_ Eduardo—about two weeks ago, he’d gone all frustrated and adamant, teaming up with Chris to demand that he at least _sit_ the exam, or else they’d gang up on him and call his _mother_.  
 _  
God_ , Mark misses his Eduardo. 

He studies until his eyes turn bleary, doesn’t even look up at the clock until it’s midnight. That’s pretty early for him, but this day has wiped him out… Not to mention Eduardo, who is still passed out on the couch when Mark peeks his head out. Mark rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes and heads for his bed, looking forward to sleeping on his own pillow for the first time this week and not waking up with the crick in his neck the couch usually produces. Mark is asleep almost as soon as he’s horizontal. 

It doesn’t last long though, because a couple of hours later there are tiny fingers tugging on his sleeve and a sad, sniffling noise in the dark. Mark blinks his eyes open, taking in a red-faced and frowning Eduardo. 

“What’s wrong?” Mark asks, voice croaky from sleep. “Are you okay?”

Eduardo shakes his head from side to side, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. “I don’t feel so good,” he answers, voice cracking. 

Mark sits up a little straighter immediately, pressing his palm to Eduardo’s forehead. “Do you feel sick? Are you gonna throw up?” he fires off, because he really _really_ does not want to clean up vomit. 

Eduardo tilts his head into Mark’s touch, eyelids fluttering closed for a second. “Don’t think so,” he whispers back, words a little slurred with sleep. 

Mark—doesn’t know what to do, he bites the inside of his lip and gives himself ten seconds to freak out. He doesn’t even make it to six before Eduardo shivers violently, teeth clacking together. “Okay, come here,” he decides, throwing back the comforter and scooting so that he’s lying with his back practically against the wall. Eduardo clambers up, laying down facing Mark and curling up into a little ball, still shaking a little. 

It’s that which makes Mark wrap his arms around him, rubbing his back and humming quietly into his hair. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispers as Eduardo’s breathing starts to even out. Eduardo lets out a soft sound of agreement, leaning forward for a moment and pressing a quick kiss to Mark’s neck. 

He’s startled out of his skin for a moment before he smiles, letting himself fall back asleep. 

//

Mark jolts awake the next morning to the blaring of the alarm he’d set on his phone last night. He groans and scrubs a hand over his face, fumbling to turn it off. He looks over at Eduardo—his entire body is burrowed underneath the blankets but he’s not shivering anymore , at least. They’re rising and falling steadily with each and every one of Eduardo’s breaths. Mark sighs and gets up, throwing on sweats and flip flops and heading to his art history exam. 

The exam kind of passes by in a blur. He knows he didn't hit it out of the park (though cramming last night definitely helped), and no matter what his mind just keeps wandering back to Eduardo. Today makes a week, and Mark has no idea what he's going to do if Eduardo isn't himself by the end of today. He has a train ride home booked for tomorrow morning, and he can't very well take Eduardo with him. He could always contact Eduardo's family, but the thought of sending young Eduardo back to his father sets his teeth on edge.

As he heads back to his dorm, he mulls over just staying, at least until Eduardo is himself again. It'd be a hassle to fill out break housing forms and all that, and it would be hard without Chris and Dustin around to help—he could never ask them to stay—but somehow he's managed so far.

It seems like the best option, but he still can't quiet the little voice in the back of his head, nagging, _but what if he doesn't change back?_  
  
Mark doesn't have an answer for it, as much as he wishes he did. Mostly he just tries to ignore it.

He unlocks the dorm room with a sigh, turning slowly around to face his room, to which he'd left the door open, and—

Eduardo is sitting upright on his bed.

Not three year old Eduardo, but _Mark's_ Eduardo—even dressed in the slacks and button-down he'd worn that first night, looking anxious and maybe a little sheepish.

"Hey Mark," he murmurs, high spots of color appearing on his cheeks as he looks at Mark, who can't quite seem to pick his jaw up off the floor.

They stay still for a moment, and then Mark's grabbing a pillow off the couch and hurling it in Eduardo's direction. It hits him right in the face.

"Ow! Mark, what the hell—"

Mark grabs another pillow and throws. Eduardo dodges, still shouting, until Mark eventually runs out of pillows and just stands in the middle of the common room, panting a little.

"Mark, what the _fuck_ \--"

"I'll tell you what the fuck," he shoots back, striding forward so he's only about a foot away from Eduardo. "When were you going to tell us, if ever?"

Guilt and anger are mixed on Eduardo's face in equal measure, and he grits his teeth for a moment before standing up and answering. "Oh sure, like it was that easy to just _say_ —"

"I don't actually care how hard or difficult it would have been, but some warning would have been nice. 'Oh hey guys, by the way, just a heads-up that I could turn into a three year old version of myself at any given moment—'"

"You're so right, I should have just slipped that into normal conversation and expected you guys to listen to me and not laugh me straight out of your lives!" he spits back. 

"Yeah, well—" but Mark stops for a moment as the words catch up with him. He tips his chin a little, looking at Eduardo a little lopsided, voice quieter when he answers. "You really think we would do that to you?"

Eduardo's eyes soften a little, and he sighs bodily before sinking back down onto the bed, head in his hands. "Do what, Mark?" he asks. He sounds exhausted and a little sad, and Mark's heart twists uncomfortably.

Mark casts his gaze down to his shoe where it is scuffing the hard wood. "Completely abandon you like that," he replies, and when he chances a look up Wardo is looking at him curiously.

He shakes his head a little for a moment. "No, I..." he trails off, eyes still sad. Mark takes advantage of the moment to sit down next to him tentatively. "I used to think that, before. But--you guys didn't abandon me through this, so. No, Mark, I don't think you guys would do that to me now." Eduardo turns to face him, and they keep eye contact for a charged moment before Mark looks away and breaks the silence.

"So you're not actually a Brazilian prince, are you?"

Eduardo looks taken aback for a moment before be breaks out laughing, so hard his stomach shakes and his eyes water and Mark laughs too, mostly out of giddiness he wasn't allowing himself to feel before because he had to be sure this was real, but... But this is certainly his Eduardo, he thinks as he watches Eduardo take a deep breath and let out a hiccup, trying to collect himself.

"No," he says emphatically, "It's really just a fairy tale. Kind of like the equivalent to the Princess and the Frog. Boy can't communicate well, so he's turned into a version of himself in which it's even harder to communicate what he wants." Eduardo blushes a little bit at the end, fiddling with the ironed fold in his slacks.

Mark scoffs lightly. "Yeah, I know, Dustin did research. And it's not just a fairy tale, seeing as it actually happened," he returns, since he thinks that bears repeating.

"Right," Eduardo replies softly, nodding very slightly.

Mark turns to face him, curiously starting to kick in. "How much do you remember, exactly?"

Eduardo squirms a little, twisting Mark's comforter in his fist and staring fixedly straight ahead. "Not too much... I remember Dustin's dinosaur toys," he says, looking back and grinning. "Why did he—"

"Have them?" Mark finishes as Eduardo giggles a little. "I have _no clue_ ," he shrugs, and Eduardo's smile widens before he continues.

"Um, I remember crying a lot. I remember watching Disney movies. And, uh..." he pauses for a moment, gaze going soft even as he stares off into the distance. "I remember snow," he says, so quietly Mark had to strain to hear, and then they are both blushing.

Then Eduardo clears his throat. "Still, I didn't remember all of that an hour ago. So hopefully it'll come back," he announces, speaking louder than the small nature of Mark's room requires and clearing his throat a tad.

Mark nods, looking off to the side, trying to decide how to bring it up, or even if he should. But there’s like, palpable tension in the room right now, and he wants to know, but mostly he just wants things to be okay. They speak at the same time. 

“Wardo—”

“Look, Mark—”

They turn to each other at exactly the same time and then freeze, waiting for the other to speak first. Mark blinks, taking in the way Eduardo looks a little bit nervous and desperate, almost scared. Mark opens his mouth and then shuts it again, trying to get the words out, trying to _ask_. He sucks his lower lip between his lip and starts again. “Wardo, why did you—”

But something in Eduardo _breaks_ at the same time, and he lets out a frustrated sound and says, “Shut up, Mark,” before fisting a hand in his shirt and pulling him in, crushing their mouths together. 

Eduardo is kissing him, _kissing him_ , Eduardo is nineteen years old again and kissing him, and Mark really needs to pinch himself immediately, because if this is a dream he’s going to be heinously disappointed. But for now he just kisses back, licks into Eduardo’s mouth and curls his hand over Eduardo’s shoulder to pull him closer. Eduardo sighs into it happily, and Mark feels something thrill through him even as he pulls back. 

“ _That_ ,” Eduardo exhales, face a little flushed and wearing a tenuous smile. “That’s why it happened, I—I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how, and—”

Mark cuts him off with a laugh, feeling a little bit… almost _giddy_ , because Eduardo is back and this is finally happening. “Wardo, it’s okay,” he says, and Eduardo visibly relaxes. “I mean, it’s a little weird since you were three years old two hours ago—”

Eduardo blushes but grins through it. “Yeah, I could definitely tell by the way you were kissing me five seconds ago,” and now it’s Mark’s turn to blush, because okay, he may be a little bit obvious. But it’s okay; he figures that someone who’s been into a person as long as he’s been into Eduardo is probably allowed to be a little obvious. 

He wants to say something to that effect, but he’s not sure he can yet. Still, something about Eduardo makes him want to try. 

“I um, I really like you too, Wardo,” he replies, feeling weirdly nervous all of a sudden, sobered by the way Eduardo’s face turns soft. “But I guess you figured that out.”

Eduardo’s smile dawns on his face slowly. “Good,” he answers, a smile in his voice, “Because I’ve had a crush on you since the second week I met you.” His smile widens, and Mark smiles back at him and they’re both silent for a moment, and then Mark has had enough of this sappiness and has to roll his eyes, getting a laugh out of Eduardo. 

“Okay, enough feelings for now,” he says decisively (because what else is he supposed to say to that?), grabbing Eduardo’s collar to pull him back in. Eduardo laughs again, and catches his breath right before connecting their lips. 

“I missed you,” he says, and Mark murmurs “Me too,” before pulling Eduardo down on top of him.

//

Chris and Dustin are smug and annoying about it, as expected. Mark had left the door open, of course he had, because his life is just a rollercoaster of ups and downs like that. 

Dustin whoops , taking in their rumpled clothes, messy hair, pink faces, and the way they sat up quickly, guiltily. 

“He’s back to being normal?” he asks, barely containing his glee, “And you guys are…” he gestures between them. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Mark answers, sounding weary and rolling his eyes at Dustin’s ridiculousness. 

Dustin bounces up and down in place once or twice before raising his arms above his head and letting out a victory whoop, which makes Eduardo giggle, so Mark can’t get too bothered by it. Chris just tips his head at them and taps the side of his nose, walking away tactfully and calling out over his shoulder, “Good to have you back, Eduardo.”

“Good to be back,” Eduardo calls in return, smiling as he turns to look at Mark, reaching forward and threading their fingers together. Mark couldn’t agree more. 

//

Since Eduardo’s flight home isn’t until late afternoon, Eduardo goes with Mark to the train station, laughs and jokes with him on the cab ride over and bumps their shoulders together intimately as they make their way to the platform. It feels… revelatory… Mark never thought he’d have something like this, and to be honest, wasn’t entirely sure it was something he’d want. But he does, _God_ , and he wants it with Eduardo more than anything. 

“So,” Eduardo sighs as they call for Mark’s train to board. 

“So,” Mark repeats back in response, earning an indulgent smile from Eduardo. 

He sighs, but not unhappily. “Have a good winter break,” Eduardo says, and his voice wobbles in the middle as he squeezes Mark’s fingers with a little bit of a pained smile. It kind of sucks, to not be able to be together this week and now have to leave, but Mark knows it’s going to be okay—it has to be. This is him and _Wardo_ , and Mark’s not going to give it up for anything. He knows they’ll be okay when they get back. 

But Eduardo looks less relaxed about the whole thing, so Mark lifts their laced hands and kisses Eduardo’s knuckles (not even caring about the sappiness of the gesture because they’re on a platform surrounded by strangers he’ll never see again) to reassure him. “We’re gonna be fine,” he murmurs, and Eduardo smiles… a little private and small, but Mark can tell that he believes him. 

Mark gets on the train and Eduardo waves him off, smiling the same wide, excited, absolutely overjoyed smile he had when he was three, and Mark feels warm and _happy_ , more than he has in a really long time. 

_  
the end_


End file.
